A thank you to the writers!
by outintheopen
Summary: This is just a little love letter to all of those who supply me with my dirty fantasies! A special thanks to those who write Dramoine, Zutara, and Wincest;)


Getting through college is tough. Getting through college while in a committed relationship is tougher. Temptation is everywhere, and for a closeted nympho, one loving relationship just isn't enough. I've never cheated, and I hope for his sake I never will. But my lust is something we'll continue to argue about for years, if not decades.

He is my first everything. My first kiss, first cuddle sesh, and everything that comes after that. And I wish it was enough. I've asked him if we could take a sexual walkabout for a month.

No.

Can we be swingers? No. Can we have a threesome? No. Can we be poly-amorous? No. Open relationship? No. Phone sex operator? No. Stripper? Prostitute? Cam girl? No. No. No.

Can we have sex more often?

No.

It felt like I was starving for intimacy, for physical affection. And then there was C.

I've known C. my entire life. His parents were friends with my parents, and even though we only saw each other sparingly we've always gotten along. He saw me go through my awkward chubby phase; I've seen him with braces and rampant acne. He's seen me scream and cry and berated by my father; I've watched him unravel to the point of insanity. I have always seen him as a far-away cousin, and I imagine he's seen me the same way.

For some reason, this last trip was different.

It shouldn't have been. Circumstances change but we never seemed to. The moms sat out by the pool, dads were AWAL again. His little brother and my little sister were still annoying, even as adults. We spent the afternoon swimming and rough housing in his grandparents backyard, and when we got bored we walked over to my grandma's house for video games. We were surrounded by the people we had grown up with, but somehow it felt like we were in out own dimension. He would look at me with those hungry, brilliant blue eyes and everything would stop. His arm would brush mine electrically as we talked about our lives, his five hours south and mine seemingly stationary. I would lean in to whisper something about my sister, not 5 feet away, into his ear and I could see his forearms flex. Something about our goodbye was different as well, he held me and said my name and I just don't know. I just don't know what to do or how to act. I want so badly to be held, to be wanted. I want so badly to feel loved.

My wonderful, caring, sweet fiance came home that night and we had sex in the bed we share, while I was trying to chase thoughts of C. out of my head.

So, so many thoughts.

I can't stop thinking about what it would be like. To be wanted by him. I can see him dialing my number, like he has so many times in the past, with trembling fingers. I can see those blue eyes darken at my voice, and his jaw strain at the thoughts running through his mind. I can see him in my apartment the next time he's in town, without our family and friends in tow. Us, together, on the couch. Unassumingly watching a movie as every breath brings us closer together. I'll look up every once and awhile to say something, make a bad joke, and his lips will be a little bit closer. Finally his hand will find my hip, and I'll feel his breath on my ear. It'll be over.

I will have to make a choice.

Should I kick him out? Cite my commitment to the man who I love dearly, who I plead for sex with on a weekly basis? Adding my "lust burns out" logic, a tune a learned at the tender age of twenty? Not even able to drink, and already not desired by her partner. What a shame. What is the point then, of keeping my slight figure fit? Of curling my lashes with black mascara to make my big, almond green eyes seem endless? Of highlighting my sharp, Navajo cheekbones and the dip in my collarbone? C. seems to think it's him. He shouts he's the reason why I'm wearing my thick hair down today. Seems to think he is the reason why I colored my plump lips a brilliant shade of red that contrasts so well with my dusky skin. He paces and raises his voice again in passion, something I am not familiar with. Boxes me in with his toned arms, against the door, and begs me for a chance. His face inches closer and I turn at the last second, unwilling to break the commitment I'm entrenched in. His lips fall on my cheek, travel to my neck. I try to fight my traitorous hands as they slip over his shoulder blades and draw him closer, breathing him in. Feeling his breath on my shoulder and his hands in my hair, around my waist, an image creeps into my mind.

My fiance. Loving, pure, so much better than I am. With his sweet, gentle brown eyes and unassuming smile, so much different than C's predatory grin.

My fiance. He is simple, and he is mine. He may not be exciting, but he loves me and he does not deserve to be hurt. My body screams for C. as a tear myself away from his arms, from his love and shut the door in his angular face. So much different from the soft, loving form of the man I promised to spend my life with.

While I wish I could fully experience the passion C. could give me at least once in my life, I still consider myself lucky. At the young age of sixteen, I found a caring, loving man to hold me the rest of our days. Four years later, he asked me to marry him and I said yes. I am lucky to have found what so many are searching for, and I will do my best to uphold the sanctity of our relationship. Who knows, throughout the course of our lives maybe it will get better.

Until then, there's fanfiction.

So thank you, to all those who write these amazing, smutty stories! I appreciate them more than you'll ever know;)


End file.
